


It's An Old Song

by charliechick117



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Crowley Was Raphael Before He Fell (Good Omens), Inspired by Hadestown, M/M, Minor Canonical Character(s), Pre-Canon, Sad with a Happy Ending, Tragedy, War in Heaven (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-07-28 13:55:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20065123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charliechick117/pseuds/charliechick117
Summary: Before the creation of the humans, before the ineffable plan took form, there was a little principality with a song in his heart and a lonely Archangel with questions in his mind.  In spite of themselves, they fell in love.But Raphael asked too many questions and Aziraphale was too innocent and Lucifer was always looking to add to his ranks of demons.  Desperate to save Raphael, Aziraphale walked into hell, confronted Lucifer, and was given the freedom to walk back out with his beloved.But there was a catch...





	1. Come Home With Me

**Author's Note:**

> Oh man, that Hadestown soundtrack though. One of my best friends is a theatre teacher and told me about Hadestown and how much I would like it and OH HOW MUCH I LOVE IT.
> 
> So this is the Hadestown AU no one asked for. I originally planned for Aziraphale and Crowley to be Hades and Persephone, but the more I listened to the music, I changed them to be Orpheus and Eurydice.
> 
> If you know the myth, the story, the musical, then you know it ends.
> 
> "It's an old song, it's a sad song, but we sing it anyway. To know how it ends and still begin to sing it again, as if it might turn out this time..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I read up on the angel hierarchy and I read somewhere that the four great archangels (Michael, Gabriel, Uriel, Raphael) could be considered a higher angel than the seraphim, making them the highest order of angels. Any other named archangel, which there are many, would fall into the lower category of archangel, differentiated by the proper 'A' in Archangel for the four and a lowercase for the others.
> 
> So that's the theory I'm rolling with in this fic.

Aziraphale wasn’t supposed to be looking. He was supposed to be helping create the garden, tending to the plants for the Almighty’s newest creations. His hands were braced against a large tree that he was supposed to be naming, but instead he was looking up at the Archangels.

There were four mighty Archangels, four to help God in all things and Aziraphale hadn’t seen them in the garden. They were supposed to be up in the cosmos, creating new life in a wide universe instead of down on the dusty earth.

Aziraphale recognized them, of course. Michael, Gabriel, Uriel, and Raphael. They radiated power and authority and Aziraphale should be working right now instead of staring and looking, but he couldn’t help it.

He stared at the Archangels, at their six wings stretched out in limitless spaces behind them, at their glowing eyes, the way they seemed to glide over the ground instead of walking. The four of them walked through the garden and, with a wave of a hand, the garden bloomed. Everywhere they stepped, blossoms sprouted and the grass grew more lush. Michael took a blue flower, threw it into the air and a bird flew away and Aziraphale gasped.

The power it took to create life that easily overwhelmed Aziraphale. He had been struggling with breathing in life to the small insects that crawled along the ground. As if he didn’t want to be outdone, Gabriel touched a rock and out rolled an armadillo. Uriel took her turn in creating life but Aziraphale’s eyes were drawn to Raphael.

The last Archangel looked distracted, constantly glancing above to the sky. His hair was vibrant red, thick and curly down past his shoulders. He smiled and Aziraphale let out a soft breath. Raphael’s smile softened his entire countenance and Aziraphale suddenly wanted to talk to him, a strange feeling surging up inside him.

The Archangels passed by the tree Aziraphale was hiding behind. Pressing himself against the tree, Aziraphale stared at Raphael. He had golden stars scattered across his skin, peeking above the collar of his robe and across the back of his hands. He glanced over at Aziraphale with a bored look.

Aziraphale froze at the sight of Raphael’s eyes – deep blue eyes with purple galaxies swirling through them. It was as if the nebulas and galaxies that he had created took up residence in his eyes. Raphael paused and his galaxy eyes widened in surprise, his lips parting as if to say something.

“Raphael!” Gabriel called. “Uriel just created the _strangest_ creature! Come help us name it!”

And Raphael was gone, leaving only the faintest glimmer of starlight. Blushing furiously, Aziraphale watched Raphael catch up with his siblings, laughing at the creature Uriel had created.

Aziraphale shouldn’t be watching. It wasn’t in his right to watch them. He, just a lowly principality, wasn’t allowed in the presence of the Archangels. He should just… he needed to leave. Aziraphale tore his gaze from the Archangels and sank down on the grass beneath the tree. He ran his fingers through the blades of grass and, using a small bit of his power, tried to summon an insect – a dragonfly or butterfly, even an ant would be worthwhile.

Someone sat down next to him and Aziraphale’s miracle fizzled out into nothing. Cassiel was another angel meant to be working, but he had a tendency to chat instead of creating. He had walked alongside Aziraphale through the garden and Aziraphale almost considered him a friend.

“You wanna talk to him?” Cassiel asked. “I saw you stare after him.”

Aziraphale could only nod.

“Go do it!”

Hands pushed at his back and Aziraphale stumbled across the grass towards the Archangels. Even if he knew what to say… how could he say it in front of the others? Aziraphale shouldn’t even be walking towards them… not the holiest of the angels. It wasn’t in his right… but Aziraphale’s feet took him across the soft grass until he could hear the Archangels laughing and talking.

“Do you ever wonder why they get all this stuff?” Raphael asked. “I mean… aren’t we important too?”

“You shouldn’t be asking questions,” Michael scolded. “We were created to obey, Raphael, don’t forget it.”

“Of course…”

“Let’s head back up,” Gabriel suggested. “There’s an empty space we need to fill.”

“You head up, I’ll be there soon,” Raphael said.

Aziraphale peered over a row of bushes. Raphael had his feet in the small stream and waved the other Archangels to leave him behind. Aziraphale swallowed and a shiver of excitement went through him. If they left… maybe Aziraphale could talk to him.

One by one, the Archangels spread out their wings and flew up to the skies and stars, leaving Raphael sitting on the edge of the stream. This was his time! Aziraphale wouldn’t get a better chance to talk to Raphael than now. He just had to walk out of the bushes, open his mouth and talk.

Aziraphale pushed through the bushes and came face to face with Raphael. While Aziraphale had been deliberating, Raphael had gotten up to investigate the bushes (Aziraphale wasn’t the sneakiest of angels). Aziraphale’s face burned.

“Come sit down,” Raphael gestured to the stream.

Mutely, Aziraphale sat down next to Raphael, both of them dipping their feet into the cool water. Sitting this close, Aziraphale could see the remnants of creation clinging to his robes, the shimmer and sparkle of stars. Raphael had the faintest freckles across his face like golden glitter. He was the most beautiful creature Aziraphale had ever seen.

“Stay with me,” Aziraphale said.

Raphael stiffened and slowly turned his galaxy eyes to Aziraphale. “And who are you?”

“Aziraphale. And you’re Raphael.”

“And why should I stay here?” Raphael asked. He didn’t sound angry, just curious. “I’m supposed to be up there… creating new nebulas and star systems… why would I give that up for you?”

“It’s different down here,” Aziraphale said. “The others they don’t… they only make fun of us and what we make. Like it’s not important.”

“Is it important?”

“If it wasn’t important, why would the Almighty command us to do it?”

Raphael hummed in consideration. Aziraphale groaned. This was not at all how the conversation was supposed to go. Trust him to completely shove his wing into it. Aziraphale picked up a blade of grass and passed his hand over it. Sitting in the palm of his hand was a small insect, a new one. It was rather plain looking and Aziraphale sighed in disappointment.

“I don’t make important things,” Aziraphale said. “But the others… they’ve created incredible creatures and plants and… this is all I can manage.” He held up the little bug.

Raphael reached out and touched the insect. As soon as he touched it, the bug started to glow. As Aziraphale cradled it gently in his hands, the glow faded then returned. Much like the beating of a heart, the glow from the insect ebbed and flowed.

“There,” Raphael whispered. “A little bit of starlight on the earth. That’s not so useless, now is it?”

The insect flew away, flashing in the garden like a fallen star. Aziraphale could almost feel the brush of Raphael’s power where the insect had been resting. Raphael was so close and Aziraphale was overwhelmed.

“Is there anything else you can do?” Raphael asked.

“I can sing,” Aziraphale offered. “It’s not… it’s not much… but I’ve been working on something.”

“Sing for me then,” Raphael said. He leaned backwards, spaying himself out on the soft green grass. He looked up at Aziraphale with a less-than-angelic smirk. “Or is that another unimportant thing you do?”

Huffing, Aziraphale summoned his harp. He had been working on a song, something different than the perfect celestial harmonies of the angel chorus. No one else wanted to listen to it. The other angels didn’t like it. But maybe… maybe Raphael would like it.

Aziraphale strummed on the harp and started to sing. He closed his eyes and let the little melody float through him. He had barely sung through the first verse when Raphael grabbed his arm.

“Look!”

Aziraphale opened his eyes. Around where he was sitting, flowers had bloomed across the grass. New flowers, white and pink, pale yellow and dark purple. The ground teemed with life, caterpillars and chipmunks, ducks in the stream paddling along and the flash of fish beneath the water. All around him, from the trees and the ground, Aziraphale felt his melody being sung back to him, as if it was the song of the Earth herself.

“How did you do that?” Raphael demanded.

“I… I don’t know,” Aziraphale said. “It’s not finished yet and no one else ever wanted to hear it…”

“It’s amazing!” Raphael exclaimed. He leaned forward to gently pat the duck on his head. “I’ve never seen such pure power!” Raphael turned to Aziraphale, his galaxy eyes were wide and his smile bright. “You have a gift, Aziraphale.”

“So you’ll stay?” Aziraphale asked.

Raphael looked up at the stars and frowned. Aziraphale, in a move of boldness, took Raphael’s hand. The Archangel’s hands were hot, filled with his divine might and it was almost too hot to hold. But as soon as their hands touched, Raphael turned back to him, surprise written all over his face.

He looked so much different than the other Archangels. Something in his face was mischievous, a little impish. Aziraphale remembered what the others scolded him for – for asking questions, for curiosity. Raphael didn’t fit in with the Archangels, Aziraphale realized. The same way he didn’t quite fit in with the rest of the angels.

“I’ll come back,” Raphael eventually said. “But I can’t promise more than that.” He looked back up at the sky and abruptly stood up, tearing his hand from Aziraphale. “I have to go now or they’ll come looking.”

“When?” Aziraphale asked, looking up at Raphael with the biggest eyes he could muster.

“Keep singing and it’ll be sooner than you think,” Raphael grinned.

Raphael stretched out his wings and took off to the sky. Aziraphale picked up his harp and, humming to himself, thought of the next stanza for his song.


	2. All I've Ever Known

Raphael didn’t know why he wanted to go back down to earth. Everything down there was heavy and bright and colorful. He was at home among the stars, the twinkling lights hanging in the inky black sky, the freedom of a vacuum, nothing holding him down. Up in the endless abyss of space, Raphael was free.

There was something about Aziraphale though, something that piqued Raphael’s cursed curiosity. So distracted, Raphael didn’t notice his malformed star, a strange oblong shape of two stars that were half fused. He threw it over his head and turned back to the green planet, crossing his arms over his chest.

Down there was a hopeful angel, toting a harp and singing a melody that brought life to the world. Raphael turned around slowly, staring at the galaxies he helped to create. Had the starlight always been so cold? So distant?

No, that was impossible. These were Raphael’s precious creations, the one thing that God allowed him to do alone. The only thing Raphael could do without the other Archangels hovering over his shoulder. They were his especial charge and they were not cold or distant.

But they weren’t as warm as the smile of Aziraphale.

He shouldn’t go back, it wasn’t his place. Raphael belonged here, with the other Archangels, the seraphim and cherubim, those closest to God. He was supposed to follow orders, after all. He was supposed to obey and not ask questions.

But everything felt so different now and Raphael just wanted to know _why_. What happened in the Garden that made space feel so cold and empty?

Before he could talk himself out of it, Raphael was flying back towards Earth.

As he broke through the atmosphere, Raphael immediately felt warmer; the heavy air pressed comfortably around his body. He touched the ground, the soft blades of grass tickling between his toes, and felt grounded. There was noise in the Garden now, chirping of birds and the rustle of tree branches. There was the sound of a waterfall and a small burbling stream. He could hear the other animals roar and bark and squawk and everything felt so _alive_.

Raphael had spent so much time in the coldness of space he didn’t know that he was growing cold too. So long he lived up in the silence, the deafening quiet of a vacuum, he didn’t realize he had been so lonely.

“Raphael!” Aziraphale called out. “Oh, you came back!”

Aziraphale practically ran to Raphael. He had a small ringlet of flowers around his head and Raphael couldn’t help but smile at the sight. The coldness in him seemed to melt at the presence of Aziraphale’s sunny disposition. How did he ever think the emptiness of space could compare with this? How could the distant love of his siblings compare to this?

“Told you I would,” Raphael said. “Did you name that insect?”

“The firefly?” Aziraphale said. “Some angels want to call it a lightning bug, which is nonsense since it looks nothing like lightning.”

They walked through the garden. Aziraphale pointing out the changes, the new fruits and vegetables growing in unkept patches all over the place. He bragged that the new fireflies were very popular around the garden and they liked coming out at twilight.

“Have you been working on the song?” Raphael asked as they stopped to pet the horses.

“I have but… it’s not ready yet,” Aziraphale said. “The garden is almost done and then we’ll be called back to witness Her final creation.”

“What else does it need?” Raphael asked.

Aziraphale took Raphael’s hand and led him through the Garden. Raphael was almost lost among the trees and greenery, the plants growing in tight clusters. Aziraphale kept a tight hold of Raphael’s hand and, without looking back, pulled him through the maze of foliage.

It was nice, Raphael realized, to have this connection with someone else. The other Archangels were serious, dedicated to the cause with no time for entertainment. Even their laughter in the Garden had been at the expense of someone else. They didn’t approve of Raphael’s questions.

Aziraphale pulled him through a thick set of plants and Raphael saw a small clearing in front of him. A small sapling growing from the middle.

“This is all that’s left,” Aziraphale said. He hadn’t let go of Raphael.

“What is it?” Raphael asked.

“The apple tree. The tree of knowledge of good and evil. It’s supposed to be a test of some sort. Once it grows, the Garden will be ready.”

“You don’t look so sure of things,” Raphael said.

Aziraphale huffed. His brow, which had been furrowed in confusion, flattened out and he pulled back his shoulders. He glanced around the clearing furtively and tightened his grip on Raphael’s hand.

“It’s a test,” Aziraphale said. “For humanity. I have no say in the matter.” Raphael was about to push the issue, but Aziraphale shook himself and looked up at him with a blissful smile. “Let’s not talk about that though. Tell me why you came back.”

Raphael coughed. “I was… lonely. I’ve never been lonely before; I didn’t know that’s what it felt like.”

“Don’t you have the other angels?” Aziraphale asked innocently.

“It’s a lot bigger up there,” Raphael said. “And dark and cold. Not that I knew any better. Not until…” he looked at Aziraphale’s sunny smile, at his sky blue eyes and rosy cheeks. “Not until I came down here.”

“I told you it was lovely,” Aziraphale said smugly.

“Not the Garden,” Raphael shook his head. “You. You’re so warm and inviting and… despite everything… I – I want to stay here. With you.”

If possible, Aziraphale’s smile grew even brighter. It reminded Raphael of the supernova he witnessed a while back. Blinding and all encompassing. Raphael touched Aziraphale’s cheek, the tips of his fingers gently running down his face. His skin was warm and soft.

Aziraphale blushed and looked down at the ground.

“I didn’t think you would,” Aziraphale said. “Who am I compared to you? But I saw you and… and… I wanted to know you. Even though you’re an Archangel and I’m hardly anything.”

“No,” Raphael shook his head. He put a finger underneath Aziraphale’s chin and lifted his face up until he could see those bright blue eyes. “Being with you is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I feel alive when I’m with you. I feel warm and safe. I spent my entire time up above holding my own, making a life in the stars. But now? Now I want to hold you and I never, ever, want to let you go. When the Garden is done, when you come back to heaven, promise you’ll be with me.”

“Forever,” Aziraphale whispered reverently. “No matter what happens, I’ll be by your side. I don’t want you to be alone ever again.”

Raphael swooped down and kissed Aziraphale.


	3. Gone, I'm Gone

Back in heaven, things were in disarray. Aziraphale and the rest of the angels stationed at the Garden shuffled along the endless clouds, jostling between the higher ranking angels, searching for the source of the commotion. At the sight of familiar red hair, Aziraphale separated from the other angels and made a beeline for Raphael.

“What’s happening?” he asked, sliding up next to the Archangel.

“Metatron announced the next part of the plan,” Raphael bent down to whisper in Aziraphale’s ear. “God is going to create humanity, we knew that, but She’s commanded us to love and obey them. As if they were more important than us!”

“Raphael!” Aziraphale scolded.

“Sorry,” Raphael apologized and took Aziraphale’s hand in his. “I just… I wish _She_ was here to tell us this.”

“She’s entrusted this to us,” Aziraphale said. “We just have to have faith.”

The angels started to disperse, commanded by Michael to prepare for the creation of humanity. Aziraphale watched a group of angels huddle away in the clouds, disappointed looks on their faces, murmuring to themselves.

“How’s the song coming along?” Raphael asked. “Since the Garden is finished you must have more time to work on int.”

“Ah,” Aziraphale said. “Well, it’s coming along. Hopefully I can finish it before the creation is finished. I think the new humans would like it.”

Aziraphale and Raphael continued to talk, meandering aimlessly around the white space of heaven. They didn’t notice the whispers following them, the stares at an Archangel hand in hand with a principality.

Raphael thought he’d have more time with Aziraphale in heaven. However, the leftover power of creation seemed to inspire Aziraphale and he wandered off, strumming his harp and singing to himself. Besides, Raphael had his own business to attend to. Business he didn’t want Aziraphale to know about.

In the white expanse of heaven there wasn’t many places to hide. There was no sneaking around when everyone could see you. But Michael and the others were distracted by their station. With so many angels to order and assemble, they didn’t notice that Raphael was missing. They didn’t see him gathered with a select few, whispering to themselves amidst the chaos.

“It’s not fair,” Lucifer said softly. “We were commanded to love God, to love Her. And where is She? Gone! She’s left us with only the Metatron to talk with and these new humans to love. It goes against everything we stand for!”

The assembled angels nodded and Raphael found himself nodding along.

“How many times have we asked questions?” Lucifer continued. “And how many times has She been silent? Does She expect us to follow Michael and the others? When was the last time they spoke to the Almighty?”

Raphael felt something twist uncomfortably inside him. When was the last time God spoke to the Archangels? Weren’t they created to support Her? How could they do that if God was silent? How could he hold up the plan if he didn’t know what it was?

“And every time we ask any question, what’s the answer we get?”

“To obey!”

“To stop asking questions!”

“Don’t we have a right to know?” Lucifer said. “Have we not been faithful?”

Raphael’s hands clenched into fists so tight it hurt. Everything Lucifer was saying made sense. He was asking all the same questions Raphael had been harboring forever. But Lucifer, unlike Raphael, had a plan. To rebel, to fight back, to get answers for the questions they’ve been asking.

Gabriel walked by the group and the whispers stopped. One of them, an angel who had been the first to follow Lucifer’s teachings, took Gabriel by the arm and led him away. The rest of the angels faded into the background, the meeting adjurned, and Lucifer turned to Raphael.

The Morningstar was an appropriate name for him. He was tall and handsome with a dark gleam in his eyes. He put a hand on Raphael’s shoulder, stopping him from leaving.

“This must be difficult for you,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“Joining our cause. I noticed that Aziraphale isn’t among our ranks.”

Raphael felt cold at the mention of Aziraphale. He was off on his own, taken by the fervor of inspiration, and singing. A brief flare of bitterness welled up in Raphael. Why wasn’t he here with him? Didn’t they promise to be together, that he would stay by Raphael’s side?

“He can’t give you what I’m offering,” Lucifer said in sweet, dulcet tones. “He’ll bring you songs but I’m offering you answers. I can give you the chance to quell that curiosity of yours, give you all the knowledge you crave.”

There was something about his voice, warm and promising, that gripped Raphael. The more Raphael thought on it, the more questions he had in his mind, the better it sounded. He didn’t want to kill anyone, didn’t want to fight, he just wanted answers.

“Then we are agreed?” Lucifer asked.

Raphael nodded. Lucifer squeezed his shoulder and Raphael knew there was no going back.

The rebellion didn’t happen immediately. There were more secret meetings, more questions, and a vague sense of a plan. Raphael kept an eye out for Aziraphale, but the principality was nowhere to be seen. Sometimes Raphael thought he heard him singing, the melody of life that he was inspired by, but each time Raphael turned to search for the source, there was nothing there but Lucifer and his followers.

Then, suddenly, they were fighting. Lucifer led the charge and clashed blades with Michael, the sound of thunder crashing over the clouds as they fought. All around him were the sounds of battle, the screams of angels as they cut each other down. Raphael, swept up in the battle, tried to keep himself out of it. He only asked questions; he didn’t want a war.

The rebellion was going poorly and Raphael cast his eyes around for Aziraphale, the angel who captured his heart and soul. There was an almighty shout and the feeling of something in the universe tearing. All at once, the battle stopped. Michael stood triumphant over Lucifer, her sword still gleaming with his blood.

“Cast them out,” she said and Raphael forgot that she was the highest of the Archangels, so often she deferred to Gabriel’s sense of purpose. Her eyes were cold as she looked over the battlefield. She landed on Raphael and her eyes narrowed. “All of them.”

“No!” Raphael cried out but his voice was lost in the cacophony of screams as the rebellious angels were cast down, wings burning behind them. “NO! Aziraphale! I have to see him! Aziraphale!”

Uriel was in front of him then, her face as still as stone. “Good bye, brother.” She touched his head and pushed him down.

Raphael’s feet slipped through the floor of heaven. His wings were burning and the last thing he saw were the Archangels standing over him, not one once of pity between them. Raphael felt hot air at his back, the smell of sulfur surrounding him. He thought of Aziraphale, of his golden white curls, of his rosy cheeks and pink lips, of his deft fingers playing his harp, of his bright tenor voice.

He screamed through the pain, of the fire licking up his robes and blistering across his skin. Heaven looked so far away, bright clouds covering the last sight of the angels.

_I’m sorry,_ Raphael thought. His wings were falling apart, feathers leaving a faint trail in the air as he plummeted to the ground. _I’m sorry, Aziraphale. I just wanted answers…_


	4. Wait for Me

The rebellious angels had been cast out. Aziraphale, shaken and terrified, gripped his harp tight and tried to ignore the screaming that still echoed in his head. He had finished the next part of the song and wanted to show Raphael and he stumbled across a warzone. He didn’t fight; he just sat on the edge and watched the fallen angels get cast down into the pit.

“We must be vigilant,” Michael announced. “Lucifer has been cast out, along with a third of our brothers and sisters. They will oppose the Plan and it is our duty to uphold that plan. You who remain, you faithful angels, will be instrumental in the time to come. It is almost time for humanity and we must be ready.”

All around Aziraphale, angels moved into action. Cassiel and a few others were sent to guard the Garden, armed with flaming swords to keep the fallen out. The Archangels gathered themselves together; Michael and Gabriel and Uriel and –

Where was Raphael?

Aziraphale’s terror, which had started to abate at Michael’s soothing voice, came back full force. He ran across the clouds, pushing aside the other angels, until he was face to face with the Archangels. He’d never spoken to them, it wasn’t his place, but this was for Raphael. Aziraphale would do anything for him.

“Where is he?” he asked. “Where’s Raphael?”

Uriel sneered and when she spoke, her voice was still burning from smiting so many angels. “Why do you care?”

“Wherever he is, that’s where I belong,” Aziraphale insisted.

“What if we told you he was fallen?” Gabriel said.

Aziraphale turned to Gabriel. He didn’t look angry or aggressive, just a little sad. He had been so jovial, so confident, when Aziraphale last saw him. Now he looked diminished, smaller next to Michael and Uriel.

“Fallen?” Aziraphale whispered. It couldn’t be true… not Raphael. Not the archangel who had been so friendly and kind. He wouldn’t have rebelled. Would he?

“Cast out with the rest of the rebels,” Michael said casually. She was always so professional, so serious about her station, so willing to do whatever it took to keep things running smoothly. Even if it meant casting out their brothers and sisters. “He called for you even as he fell. But you weren’t listening, were you?”

“No, no,” Aziraphale shook his head. It couldn’t be true. If Raphael called for him, Aziraphale would have heard it, he _should_ have heard it, but he was busy working on his masterpiece and… and… he hadn’t heard a thing. He had been so caught up with his song it was all he heard.

It didn’t matter, Aziraphale rationalized. What happened was done. If Raphael had fallen, if he was truly cast out, then Aziraphale had only one option. He turned to the Archangels, face set in determination.

“I have to find him.”

“He’s gone, Aziraphale,” Michael said sternly. “You’ll find another companion. We need to focus on the plan. You’ll be stationed at the east gate of Eden. I expect you to leave as soon as possible.”

Without a second glance, Michael left, Uriel sweeping up beside her. Neither of them spared a second glance for Aziraphale, backs held straight and heads up high. Aziraphale’s heart was broken and no one seemed to care. Well, they weren’t in love, not like Aziraphale was. He would find a way into the pit and drag Raphael out himself if he had to.

“Aziraphale.”

He’d forgotten Gabriel was still there. Gabriel glanced around furtively and, when he was satisfied no one was listening in, stepped right next to Aziraphale. Gabriel was taller than Aziraphale, a broad shoulder soldier, and Aziraphale remembered watching him cut down plenty of the rebelling angels.

While Raphael was a peaceful Archangel, Michael the commanding one, and Uriel the smiting, Gabriel was the cheerful one, the optimistic one with a laugh and compliment. If things had been different, Aziraphale might have enjoyed Gabriel’s company.

“How far are you willing to go?” Gabriel asked softly.

“To the end of the universe itself,” Aziraphale said.

“There is another way…” Gabriel said. He looked over his shoulders again. “Although… I really shouldn’t say.”

“Another way?”

Gabriel winced. He looked tired up close. His face pinched in strain and violet eyes watering with unshed tears. Aziraphale wondered if Gabriel lost someone in the rebellion too.

“You could walk. It’s not an easy trip and you can’t fly or use your powers. Just walk straight down to where the fallen are cast out, through the darkness of hell with no one by your side. Do you really want to do that?”

“With all I have,” Aziraphale swore. “With everything I am, all the love I carry for him, I will walk to hell and bring him back out.”

Gabriel smiled then, a little soft and a little broken. If he knew the way to walk to hell, why couldn’t he go down and bring back the one he lost? But Aziraphale knew why – a missing Archangel wouldn’t go unnoticed, not like a missing principality. And perhaps the one Gabriel lost didn’t feel for the same for him.

“Well,” Gabriel eventually said with something almost like awe in his voice. “That’s a start.”

Gabriel took Aziraphale by the shoulder and dragged him away from the rest of the hosts of heaven. He bent down and touched the ground. As he lifted up his hand, a golden beam rose from the ground and a small hole appeared in the ground. As Aziraphale watched, the hole grew larger and larger until he saw a golden staircase leading downwards, Gabriel holding onto the banister.

“Good luck, Aziraphale,” Gabriel said. He looked like he wanted to say something else, but Gabriel bit it back with a smile and gestured towards the stairs.

Taking a deep breath, thinking of Raphael, Aziraphale started walking down the stairs.

The stairs went on for eternity. There was no way to count the passage of time, just one step in front of the other down golden stairs. He thought of Raphael, of him calling out for Aziraphale before he fell, before he was cast out. And where was Aziraphale? Gone.

He had promised to stay with him, to stay by his side in heaven. And what did he do? He ran off first chance he had to work on his song. But didn’t Raphael ask him to finish it? Aziraphale had been so caught up in the euphoria of creation he hadn’t noticed how long he’d been away from Raphael.

Long enough that the Archangel fell in with the wrong people.

The stairs faded from golden to silver and the space around him turned gray. Aziraphale’s wings dragged behind him and his feet started to ache. His legs protested the angle of the stairs even as he kept walking.

He may not have been with Raphael when he needed him, but he was going to get him now. Aziraphale would make up for his past mistakes and rescue Raphael – no matter the consequences. He would never let anything happen to him again.

But the longer he walked, the more dangerous his thoughts turned. The fire to save his beloved could only take him so far and, despite Aziraphale’s determination, little tendrils of doubt crept into his mind like creeping ivy.

Should he even be doing this? Aziraphale wondered as the silver stairs turned bronze. He was all alone, walking the path no angel would dare walk. Who was he to undertake such a journey? Just a lonely principality walking to hell, the home of the fallen. A journey not even Gabriel, one of the Archangels, was willing to undertake.

The stairs ended and Aziraphale was facing a large, dark cave made of black obsidian stone and decorated with bones. Unadulterated malice radiated from the cave in waves. Half of his journey was behind him and all Aziraphale had to do was walk through hell, through the pit of the fallen. The light behind him, the light of heaven, couldn’t permeate the darkness of the cave.

He didn’t want to go in. Black ichor and red blood oozed down the cave entrance and Aziraphale couldn’t help but think of the slime in his wings, the taint of the fallen on his robes. He held onto his harp and thought of Raphael. If the Archangel was trapped in there, then that’s where Aziraphale would go.

Desperate, Aziraphale strummed his harp and sang. He sang the melody of life he had been working on and felt warmth run through him. The ground beneath him was softer and the smell of fresh flowers floated around him.

“Wait for me,” he whispered as he took his first steps through hell. “I’m coming for you, my love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus points if you know who Gabriel is missing... ;)


	5. If It's True

He clung to the last shred of his glory. He kept it hidden from the other fallen angels, hidden from Lucifer and Beelzebub. Huddled in the darkest pits imaginable, Lucifer created his own plan and prepared his fallen angels, demons, to do their part. He shuffled along with the rest, avoiding the dead gaze of the other demons.

“We will fight again,” Lucifer said. “And next time we will be victorious.”

Some of the demons, those dedicated to the cause, changed their names. All around him were familiar faces and unfamiliar names; Hastur, Ligur, Baal. They wanted to change his name too, remind him which side he chose to be on.

“Crawly,” Hastur suggested. “For the way you tried to claw your way back into heaven instead of falling with us.”

He shook his head. He couldn’t remember what his name was before, but he was an angel. He had a partner, someone he loved. No matter how long he was down in these pits, he would cling to those memories. He was an angel once. He wasn’t created a demon. Still, the name stuck and before long, he was Crawly the demon with no memory of his time before.

The demons were all given animals that they would take over on earth. The last heavenly creations, the slimy and scaly belonged to hell. Beelzebub took the flies, the incessant buzzing around their head. Dagon took the fish, Hastur the frogs and Crawly…

Crawly took none of them. Deep in his mind, buried in his subconscious, he clung to the faint memory that he was something else, something _before_ the fall. He never chose an animal; but one was chosen for him. The lowest of all creatures, slithering on its belly eating nothing but dust.

“A snake,” Beelzebub announced.

He could do nothing but accept the creature as his own, imprinted on his skin forever.

Hell was a labyrinth. Lucifer had his throne room with giant doors of stone and bone but the rest of the demons were supposed to fend for themselves in the winding tunnels. As vast as the caverns were, there were demons crawling all over it. He was overwhelmed and claustrophobic in the narrow dark passageways.

Time lost meaning. He didn’t know how long he had been down here. How long since he fell? How long had it been since he was in a peaceful meadow, listening to an angel sing and watching flowers bloom? He loved the angel, he remembered that much, and he threw it away for what? For answers?

And what answers did he have now? He couldn’t even remember the questions he had been once asking, much less if there were ever any answers. Mindlessly, he continued to work, to prepare for the day, nearly six thousand years in the future, when they would rebel again.

-

Aziraphale felt the taint of hell on his wings and his robes. As he walked, he kept singing. His little melody of life was still potent, even here in the depths of hell. There were no flowers, no animals or plants, but there was light and warmth. Through his song, Aziraphale found his way to the center of hell. There, hundreds of demons clustered and Aziraphale worried he wouldn’t be able to find Raphael. Would he still recognize him, even fallen?

He stuck out among the demons, still an angel, glowing white the darkest pits of hell. The rest of them stared at him, growling and hissing as Aziraphale looked over the demons. There were so many more than he thought… so many fallen… but he was looking for one; one among hundreds, a challenge for even the strongest angel and he was just Aziraphale.

Even as he worried, something caught Aziraphale’s eyes, a flash of red hair. Aziraphale ran through the demons, pushing them aside. Raphael still faintly glowed with his Archangel powers; just the smallest amount that only Aziraphale, who was closer to Raphael than anyone else, could recognize. He wasn’t fallen, not entirely. His white robes were dirtied, his hair a ratty mess, but it was him.

Aziraphale grabbed Raphael’s shoulder and spun him around. Raphael’s eyes, those beautiful galaxy eyes, took a moment to focus and Aziraphale let out a sigh of relief.

“Come home with me,” Aziraphale said.

Raphael’s face split into a grin, his eyes wet with tears. “It’s you!”

“It’s me.”

“Aziraphale,” Raphael whispered and a little darkness left his face.

“Oh, Raphael,” Aziraphale grabbed his face and kissed him.

It was a little wet and the surrounding demons were staring with open horror. Aziraphale didn’t care; he had Raphael back in his arms where he belonged.

“I called for you,” Raphael sobbed against Aziraphale’s lips. “Did you hear me?”

“No,” Aziraphale said truthfully. “I… I’m sorry… but Michael told me. I came as soon as I could but I never should have left. It’s my fault that you’re here.”

“No,” Raphael shook his head violently. “It’s not your fault, angel, it was never your fault. You’re here now and that’s all that matters.”

And they were kissing again. Raphael’s hands were rougher than Aziraphale remembered as they cupped Aziraphale’s cheeks. The demons grumbled around them, growling in disapproval at the blatant display.

“But how?” Raphael asked through thick tears. “How did you find me?”

“I walked,” Aziraphale’s fingers tightened in the back of Raphael’s robe. “Then I sang and I just knew where you were. It was like the rocks led me to you. Come on! Let’s go back!”

“I can’t,” Raphael pulled away, his face streaked with tears.

“Yes, you can! I know the way!”

“No, you don’t understand!”

But before Raphael could say anything else, the huge doors overlooking the cavern slammed open. They banged against the wall and shook every corner of hell and, standing there with black wings outstretched, was Lucifer. Satan himself, glaring down with fire in his eyes. All the demons scattered, leaving nothing between Lucifer and Aziraphale and Raphael,

“You little angel,” he sneered. He walked down to the two of them, each step thunderous. “What do you think you’re doing here? You better leave before my demons get a hold of you.”

Aziraphale pushed Raphael behind him, one hand protecting the Archangel. “I’m here to take Raphael home.”

“Is that so?” Lucifer laughed. “He’s fallen, little angel. His soul is _mine_. You can’t take him back even if you wanted to. He joined us willingly, didn’t you, _Crawly_? Afraid that contract is binding. You can’t have him.”

Aziraphale turned to Raphael (Crawly?) and let out a small whimper. “No, it isn’t true…”

“It is,” Raphael said, his eyes downcast.

“Take him,” Lucifer commanded.

Two demons grabbed Raphael and pulled him away. Before Aziraphale had the chance to scream, to even breathe, more demons surrounded him, laughing and mocking. One of them grabbed his wings, yanking out his white feathers and throwing them to the ground. Another punched him in the gut and Aziraphale bent over from the force of it.

“Show him what happens to trespassers here!” Lucifer shouted.

He didn’t know how long he endured the pain, each hit fading into the next until he was bleeding on the floor of hell, wings limp and sobbing to himself. When he knew he couldn’t take another hit, Lucifer called them to stop.

“Get out of here, angel,” Lucifer snarled. “You don’t belong.”

Gingerly, Aziraphale stood up. His wings curled awkwardly around his back. Feathers were strewn across the ground, fluttering around Aziraphale as he stared defiantly up at Satan.

“If it’s true, then I’ll leave,” Aziraphale said. “If it’s true that my love is gone. If it’s true that I can’t do anything about it. If it’s true that I’m too late. I’ll leave and I won’t ask any more questions. But who says it’s true?”

Around him, the fallen angels stared. The demons who weren’t as devoted looked up at Aziraphale with something almost like hope in their eyes. Aziraphale looked at Raphael, who was held limply between two demons, and felt courage swell in his chest.

“You, Lucifer, are a liar. How can I trust anything you have to say?” Aziraphale said. “How can I trust that I can’t save him? I love him, more than anything else in the world. He and I are stronger together, stronger than you. You have much to gain by lying, to trick me into leave him behind. To separate us and make us weak.”

“Watch your tongue, boy,” Lucifer growled.

“Then tell me the truth!” Aziraphale demanded. “Raphael isn’t fallen yet! He still clung to his grace. He isn’t yours! But if I take him, if I prove that we’re still together, then you’ll have nothing! You’ll have _lost_!”

“Silence!” Lucifer roared.

He spun around and stormed into the room behind him. The entire cavern shook with the force of the blow and Aziraphale stood quivering in place. A lonely angel in hell.

In the silence that followed, the demons dropped Raphael. Aziraphale limped to him, kneeling next to him and cradling him close. The demons, those who weren’t completely fallen, started to whisper. The fallen angels who felt regret, who only asked questions, stared at Aziraphale and stopped working.

“Is it true?” they whispered.

“Is Satan trying to make us weak?”

The whispers grew louder and louder but Aziraphale wasn’t listening to them. Raphael, the Archangel of healing, was tending to him. Perhaps a bit weaker than before, but the stardust miracles caressed Aziraphale’s injuries and healed them. The broken limbs, the swollen bruise on his face, all of it healed with each brush of Raphael’s hands.

“He’s not going to let us go,” Raphael said softly.

“He will,” Aziraphale said firmly. “I’m going to sing for him.”


	6. Doubt Comes In

There was no telling how long Lucifer was locked up in his room. Aziraphale and Raphael sat huddled in the same place Lucifer left them, clutching each other and waiting for the verdict. The other demons, the fallen angels touched by Aziraphale’s words, stopped working.

The whispers of rebellion were rising in hell. There were questions that Lucifer needed to answer, questions the demons were demanding of him. They wanted the truth and they weren’t going to wait any longer for it.

The rebellious whispers grew into a chant which grew into a shout until Lucifer reappeared.

There was no blazing fury, no fire or anger in his eyes. His wings were folded behind his back and he calmly walked down to Aziraphale and Raphael. The rebellious shouts quieted to a whisper at the sight of Satan.

He looked around at his demons and smiled, saccharine sweet. The murmurings stopped entirely and Aziraphale stood up. Raphael stood up behind him, bracing him up even as the King of Hell stared them down.

“Well, little angel,” Lucifer said softly, “It looks like you’ve made an impression on my Prince.” He glanced behind him to Beelzebub, who was standing awkwardly with their arms folded and looking down. “And my demons tell me you sang your way into hell. So before I kill you, go ahead and sing me a song. If you’re as good as they say, then make me feel alive again.”

Shaking like a leaf in a storm, Aziraphale stepped forward. He looked up at Lucifer, at his beautiful and twisted face, and took a deep breath. He strummed his harp and sang.

As Aziraphale sang, his voice grew stronger. He sang the song of life and, below his feet, small tendrils of grass started to grow. He sang of the beauty of creation, of the new worlds and stars that bloomed beneath the hands of the angels. All around him, the voices of the fallen angels, of the rocks and stones, of the smallest red carnation that bloomed by Raphael, all joined him in the song.

Then he looked up at Lucifer, at the shock on his face and the tears in his eyes, and kept singing. There was a breeze that blew through Aziraphale’s hair and a butterfly landed on his harp, and still Aziraphale sang. He sang of the loss of creation, the loss of life and love.

Softly, so soft Aziraphale thought he had imagined it, but Lucifer sang back the melody to Aziraphale.

The melody that Aziraphale had been singing, the little song of life that had inspired him, was created by Lucifer. It was _his_ song of creation, _his_ song of life and love. A song that _he_ created when he was still an angel. A song that he forgot.

But now he remembered it.

“You finished it,” Raphael mumbled into Aziraphale’s shoulder as the song faded away. “Even he liked it.”

“Now what?” Aziraphale asked softly. His entire body was worn out. He sang for Lucifer with a lump in his throat, convinced it wasn’t going to work and that he and Raphael weren’t going to be able to leave. He had hoped beyond hope that it would work, prayed to God (wherever She was) that they could walk free.

“Now, you take me back,” Raphael said. He pulled back to look at Aziraphale, his face bright with a smile. “You take me _home_.”

“Can we do that?”

“You walked here, just walk back out.”

“It’s not easy,” Aziraphale said even as hope blossomed in his chest. “Are you sure about this?”

“Aziraphale, please,” Raphael said. “I want to go home.”

“Okay.”

Aziraphale closed his eyes, hands on Raphael’s cheeks, and pulled him in for a kiss. It didn’t matter that they were in the depths of hell, their fate uncertain, they were _together_. Like they were always meant to be.

A dark shadow loomed over them and Aziraphale looked up at the beautiful and terrifying face of Lucifer. He held Raphael tighter.

“Can we go?” he asked.

Lucifer let out a heavy sigh and looked out over the assembled demons. “I don’t know,” he said. He turned around and walked back to the room behind his throne; huge doors, made of blackened bone, slammed behind him.

It could have been eons, it could have been minutes, since Lucifer slammed the door on his horde of demons. Some of them, the less fallen, stared longingly at Aziraphale as he stroked Raphael’s wings. Already, Aziraphale was making plans for what he and Raphael would do back in heaven. There was still so much to create, to prepare for the humans.

The door creaked open and out sauntered Beelzebub. Flies gathered around their head and they gestured for Aziraphale and Raphael to come up.

“Boss says you can go,” Beelzebub said.

There was a rise in murmurs from the demons and Aziraphale felt his gut lurch. His hand tightened in Raphael’s at the hope glowing within him. But as he looked at Beelzebub, at their pinched and sallow face, Aziraphale felt a tightening in his chest.

“But not like that,” they pointed to their entwined hands. “Angel, you go first and he walks behind. And if you turn around to make sure he’s there then Crawly is ours.”

“It’s a trap!” Aziraphale protested and he gripped Raphael’s hand tighter.

“You don’t trust each other to do it?” Beelzebub asked sadly. “I thought you were _in love_.”

“It’s a test,” Raphael said slowly.

“Exactly,” Beelzebub said. “You two have a chance to prove yourselves. A chance that I never got. So do you trust each other enough? Do you trust yourselves?”

Aziraphale turned and kissed Raphael one more time. He could do this. _They _could do this. He knew the way out and Raphael would be right behind him. He looked back at Beelzebub and paused at the look on their face. There was something familiar about it, about the pinched off longing, the faint regret in their eyes. The way Beelzebub looked like they wanted to say so much more but couldn’t.

“He misses you,” Aziraphale said suddenly and Beelzebub looked up. “And… I’ll let him know.”

Beelzebub didn’t smile but their face seemed less tense. “You better go. It’s a long walk and some of this lot will follow you. And… tell him I’m sorry.”

Aziraphale tightened his grip on his harp and turned to face the tunnel that he came from.

“I’ll be right behind you,” Raphael promised as he let go of Aziraphale’s hand. “Just wait for me on the other side. I’ll come to you.”

Without turning around and Raphael’s promise around his heart, Aziraphale started the long walk out of hell, not realizing how many of the fallen angels were following, not seeing Beelzebub hastily wipe away a tear, and not hearing Lucifer’s last words.

“I didn’t let them go. I let them _try_.”

Slowly, the jeers and taunts of the demons fell away. Aziraphale could only hear his footsteps on the stone floor, the rapid pace of his breathing. He walked slowly, so he didn’t lose Raphael. There was only his footsteps echoing in the tunnels and Aziraphale wanted to double check – just to be sure…

No.

Aziraphale couldn’t turn around. Hadn’t he told Beelzebub that he and Raphael trusted each other? That they were going to prove themselves to Lucifer, that they could do this? Just walk out of hell and back to heaven. Aziraphale knew the way, of course he did. He just had to walk back through the twisting and turning halls.

Clutching his harp, wings quivering, Aziraphale started to sing. He had come back for Raphael and they were walking out of here. His voice was soft in the halls with no answering choir, no answering song from Raphael.

There were dark whispers in the halls, mutterings from the demons, judging and watching and waiting. The rocky ceiling felt like it was caving in on Aziraphale. The halls stretched out into long tunnels and a treacherous thought hit Aziraphale: what if he forgot the way?

No, this was not the time for doubt. Aziraphale shook his head and kept walking, one foot in front of the other, his voice warbling and weak in the depths of hell as he sang. His footsteps sounded so loud in the tunnels… just his footsteps. Left, right, left.

Alone. Aziraphale had never been alone before when he sang; there was always a choir behind him. When he sang the song of life, the very world sang back to him, even Lucifer sang with him. But now there was nothing; no answering song to quell the shaking in Aziraphale’s chest. The whispers of the demons grew louder and Aziraphale felt doubt take hold. Like a weed in a garden, the roots started to dig deep and choke the hope and faith he had carefully tended.

Was Raphael really following him? An Archangel following a lowly principality out of hell? The mere thought seemed laughable to Aziraphale the more he thought on it. The hallway closed tighter around Aziraphale and he stopped singing.

(Unheard by the angel was Raphael, quietly encouraging him along, promising to be right behind him forever. “I’m right here, angel. You’re not alone.”)

Who was Aziraphale to lead Raphael out of hell? Who was he to try and trick Lucifer?

It had to be a trap, despite whatever Raphael said. A trick, a ploy. Why else would Satan himself allow Aziraphale to take Raphael away? To just walk away without any consequence? Aziraphale wasn’t the strongest angel, nor the most powerful. Why did he think he could walk away like this?

The darkness seemed to close in tighter around Aziraphale and his mind circled around and around, from one doubt to another and another. The doubt in his mind grew and grew, the roots of it killing off all other feelings in Aziraphale’s head.

Where was Raphael?

Was this a trick?

Ahead there was a light and Aziraphale wrestled with himself. How could he know if Raphael was behind him? How could he trust Lucifer? Aziraphale never felt so alone. Played for a lovestruck fool, blindly hoping that Raphael would follow him. Of course Lucifer would use it to his advantage, to keep Raphael for himself and trick Aziraphale to walk out of hell on his own.

And Lucifer would have a fallen Archangel in his ranks, a price above all.

(“Angel, I’m right here. I have been all along. You’re not alone in the dark.”)

Aziraphale promised he wouldn’t leave without Raphael and he wouldn’t be tricked by Lucifer. He had to know. Where was he? Where was Raphael? He had to know… now!

He turned around.

And there was Raphael, red hair glowing in the faint light of heaven, bright eyes brimming with tears. He had been right behind Aziraphale the entire time, barely a touch away. His mouth was open in a gasp. He looked just as beautiful as Aziraphale remembered.

“It’s you,” Aziraphale whispered.

“It’s me,” Raphael gave Aziraphale the most heartbreaking smile, wobbling and cracking around the edges. “Aziraphale…”

The darkness of hell swooped up and surrounded Raphael. The demons laughed as they tore through his robes, tainting the Archangel as they dragged him back to hell.

Standing alone with heaven at his back, Aziraphale reached out to the nothingness.

“Raphael…”


	7. Reprise

_It’s an old song._

A snake slithered up the wall in the garden, entranced by the angel standing guard.

_It’s an old tale from way back when._

The snake, upon reaching the top of the wall, shifted forms until he was humanoid, standing next to the angel, his own black wings extended out behind him.

_It’s a sad song._

He turned to the angel and a spark of recognition flickered through him.

_It's a love song._

“Well, that went down like a lead balloon.”

_We’re gonna sing it again._

-

“Absolutely not!” Aziraphale protested, staring down at the small slip of paper. “This will destroy you!”

“It’s just insurance,” Crowley said.

“No,” Aziraphale shook his head and took a step backwards. “I’m not bringing you a suicide pill, Crowley. It’s out of the question.”

Aziraphale spun away before Crowley could say anything else. The spring air of the park felt suddenly cool as he walked away, shoes clacking on the cobblestone path. Something about this felt familiar. The cold, the loneliness, feelings that were only soothed by Crowley’s presence. The growing fondness for one he’d been alongside for thousands of years.

Aziraphale wanted to turn back to Crowley and hold him close; an urge he pushed down, just like he’d done for centuries. He was an angel, created to hold his own on Earth as heaven’s field agent. He should have welcomed the chance to finally destroy his enemy, but deep down Aziraphale knew better. Now that he and Crowley had the Arrangement, Aziraphale realized he didn’t want to live without him.

_Now I want to hold you and I never, ever, want to let you go. _

\- 

Crowley stared at the semi-corporal form of Aziraphale, hope fluttering in his chest. He didn’t burn up in the bookshop; he was alive! The world was due to end in a few scant hours and Crowley felt a renewed hope as Aziraphale kept talking.

He had figured it out. What a clever, clever angel. The end of the world was starting in Tadfield and Crowley would be damned – blessed – whatever! – if he went there alone. Aziraphale was _alive_ and Crowley felt himself start to sober up.

“Wait for me,” Crowley insisted. “Wherever you are, I’ll come to you.”

Something about it felt familiar to Crowley, as if he’d heard it before…

_Wherever he is, that’s where I belong._

_\- _

“Do you think this will work?” Aziraphale asked, staring down at the small slip of paper.

“It was your idea, angel,” Crowley said.

“Yes, I know that,” Aziraphale huffed. “But do you think it’ll work?”

“It’s our best chance,” Crowley said.

Aziraphale nodded. It was the best option. Heaven and hell would be expecting an angel and demon, respectively. If they switched, they would live. They only had to trust each other, trust themselves. Walk to death without looking back or the trick would be foiled.

Crowley took Aziraphale’s hand and, like pouring water from a pitcher, they poured their soul, their essence, into each other. When Aziraphale opened his eyes, he was in Crowley’s skin.

“I’ll head to the bookshop,” Crowley said through Aziraphale’s mouth. “I’ll meet you in the park in the afternoon.”

“I’ll come to you,” Aziraphale said.

Crowley smiled wryly and left for the bookshop, leaving a strange echoing feeling in Aziraphale’s chest.

_Just wait for me on the other side. I’ll come to you_

_\- _

Crowley paused as he exited the elevator. Where was Aziraphale? Agnes had never been wrong before and the fact that Crowley was still alive proved that they interpreted the prophecy correctly. He had chosen his face wisely and played with fire.

But what if hell didn’t play by those rules? What if they sentenced Aziraphale to eternity in the pits? What if they punished him by some other, unmentionable torture and Crowley never knew?

He had to stick to the plan. Fool heaven and hell and meet at the park. If Crowley showed any sign of panic or worry, then the jig would be up. The entire ploy rested on heaven and hell believing he and Aziraphale had gone native; that they _knew_ each other was native, that they would survive their trials.

And if Crowley, still dressed as Aziraphale, panicked, then heaven would know they lied.

But the doubt was creeping in. Crowley lost Aziraphale once (twice?) and he wasn’t going to lose him again. He wanted to turn around, storm into hell and bring Aziraphale out himself, but he knew he couldn’t.

He had to trust his angel to follow him out.

With a confidence Crowley didn’t entirely feel, he walked away from the head office, not looking back once.

Waiting in the park was infinitely worse. Crowley was so worried he didn’t sit down at their usual bench. Instead he stood to the side of the path, looking out over the grass and the trees. He waited for Aziraphale, hoping and trusting and _believing_ that he was on his way.

There was a tap on his shoulder and Crowley looked to his side.

“It’s you,” he breathed out.

Aziraphale smiled at him. “It’s me.”

Throwing all hesitation away, Crowley leaned in and kissed Aziraphale. It felt familiar, as if he’d done this before. Aziraphale cradled Crowley’s face in his hand and, as they kissed, they switched back. Crowley felt his hands cupping Aziraphale’s face and Aziraphale’s hands at his waist as they kissed and kissed and kissed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just couldn't leave them without a happy ending guys, I couldn't do it!
> 
> Thanks to Hadestown for the inspiration and the fantastic lyrics that I sprinkled throughout this fic. And thanks to my friend who introduced me to it, without whom I wouldn't have written this at all.
> 
> Special thanks to you for reading and kudos-ing and commenting! Your feedback is so integral to me wanting to even continue this short little fic, so thank you so much!


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